


Grounded

by FairTradeHoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:19:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairTradeHoney/pseuds/FairTradeHoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 9x09, Cas returns to the bunker to find Dean dealing (in his way) with the Gadreel fallout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grounded

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this incredible art: http://deniigi.tumblr.com/post/76074519220/stormy-days

Sometimes the lack of sunlight gets to Dean. 

Being predominantly underground, there’s little in the way of windows in the Men of Letters’ bunker. The one exception is a small room at the top of the stairs near the entrance. In a normal home it probably would be an office or a small library. Here, its intended purpose had long been forgotten, as over the years the room appeared to have become a bit of a catch-all—a room where you put things that don’t really fit anywhere else. In addition to boxes filled with unidentified relics and stacks of yellowed papers, there was a single large window facing north, standing about five feet high with a ledge substantial enough for sitting. 

Dean first sat in the window when he was feeling restless and it was too cold to wander outside. As he stared out at the sparse landscape, the calming effect of uninterrupted horizon was palpable. People think western Kansas is boring, flat on multiple levels, but Dean saw layers of difference within the constancy. Pale yellows and honey browns mixed with oatmeal and cream to create a rich, stable foundation. He particularly enjoyed the view at sunset, when the solidity of the earth contrasted most with the fiery orange erupting sky. The view was, in a word, _grounding_. From then on, when he was feeling antsy, blocked, or just frustrated, he would take a few moments to gaze out the window and remember why it is they do what they do. Recently, with all that happened with Sam, Ezekiel, and the angels, he came here almost daily. 

That was how Cas found him. 

Cas showed up in Lebanon to find a used funeral pyre outside the bunker and charred remains that, based upon their size, could only have been Kevin. Inside the bunker was in shambles. He wandered through the chaos that was once the library taking stock of the damage, calling out for Dean, then Sam, with no response. He made his way from what appeared to be the center of the carnage and moved outward, eventually coming to the small room at the top of the stairs. Dean was there, sitting on the window ledge staring towards, but not actually looking at the rain falling outside. The weather left the familiar view obscured, and it was impossible to see where the earth and sky met. Instead, everything was muddled and grey.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean didn’t move, or acknowledge Cas’ presence. 

“I saw Kevin,” Cas continued. “What happened?”

Dean continued to stare blankly forward, unresponsive, though his breathing became slightly more audible. 

Whispering, Cas asked, “Where is Sam?”

At that, Cas felt Dean’s shoulder tense, pulling up and in, as if Dean were trying to fold his body inward and become a smaller version of himself. He said nothing as tears began to flow silently down his cheeks, mirroring the rain streaking the windowpane. One at a time, Cas wiped each tear away, until they stopped falling. Then he took Dean’s hand, squeezing it gently. Surprisingly, though his gaze didn’t move from the window, Dean squeezed back.

In that gesture, Cas felt Dean’s grief as if it were his own. He also felt the smallest glimmer of hope, a sense that, given time, Dean would find his way back. Without letting go of Dean’s hand, Cas slid down to sit on the floor at Dean’s feet, resting his head on Dean’s thigh. They sat together like this for hours, waiting for the rain to stop, for the sun to come up, and the horizon to come back into focus—just Dean, Cas, and a room full of other things that didn’t belong.


End file.
